


Waiting

by forgetful01



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck, redrom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetful01/pseuds/forgetful01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sadstuck gamdave because im a terrible friend and people must suffer</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

There were times on occasion that Dave had a life outside of Gamzee, must to the trolls displeasure. This was one of those times.

He frowned as he leaned against the door frame, refusing to look at the human most for the reason that if he did, his resolve to stay composed might have broken entirely. "I still don't fuckin' see why you got to go to this stupid con." He grumbled, looking down at his shoes.

"We've been over this." Was the reply, something he'd heard so many times he could have said it for him. "Bro needs help with the gig, so I'm tagging along."

"Why can't I go?" He asked. Another stupid question. Again, he heard the answer before it was spoken.

"And have a repeat of last time? No offense Makara, but you don't exactly know how to behave yourself in public."

Dave zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. "Besides, it's only for a week."

"Yeah, but it's a week."

"You'll be fine, Juggaboo." 

Gamzee frowned and dejectedly kicked at a smuppet. 

"Just wait by the door for me." Dave said with a smile, implying he was joking. "Like a good troll."

\-----

The first day was okay. He wasted the time away by stuffing himself with hot pockets and played shitty videogames, hanging around the futon. Since Bro had moved out of the apartment it was just him and Dave now. After several naps sprawled out across the mattress, face buried in the pillow that smelled most like the insufferable prick, night fell and that's when things got bad.

Nights had always been bad for him. Bad memories, bad nightmares, bad times. On the occasion that he had a nightterror he could always wake up Dave, eyes downcast, and the Strider would know exactly what was bothering him. They would roll over and spoon, Gamzee clinging to Dave's hand throughout the entire night, waking instantly if the human moved. 

Now though, he had to fight it alone. He stared in vain at the phone that never rang, the door that never opened, listening for the voice that didn't call out to him. After hours of trying to calm himself he crawled his way over to the door, sat down, curled up, and slept there.

The next day he did the same thing. He ate, went to the bathroom, got a shower, and plopped right back down at his spot by the door. This followed the next day, and the next day, and the day after. Even after Karkat had texted him and non too gently told him he was being ridiculous and to suck it up, the shithead would be back soon. It didn't matter, he still sat by the door.

The week was up and not a single phone call. No texts, no messages, nothing. After building up the courage he went through his contacts until the highlight hovered over Dave's name, and hit call. It went straight to an automated message, saying that the phone number was disconnected. 

Another week went by and he wasn't eating well. If he slept, it was curled in a ball, back to the wall and head pointed toward the door. He tried calling Bro's cell, only to get the same message. 

Another week. Dave's pesterchum was deleted, and Gamzee stopped sending messages. He had dropped a little over ten pounds in the past few days. He didn't want to even look at food. All the while he told himself, Dave was coming back. Dave wasn't going to leave him like that, not after everything they'd been through. He could trust the human, almost if not more than his moirail. Right?

A month. Not a single word from him. 

Two months.

Three.

Four.

Five. Six. Seven.

A year.

He had gotten a job to pay for the apartment. It wasn't easy to convince the landlord that he could be trusted, and he had to pay a couple hundred upfront.

He cleaned every day, closing off his and Dave's bedroom and made his own little fort by the door. Blankets and pillows, a few bags of chips, and his broken will. He went to work, came home, did the chores that he forced himself to do, and sat down in his regular spot. 

A year and a half passed. Every day he still waited by the door, waiting for his matesprit to come home.


End file.
